Him.
by LaCasta
Summary: So, is there another reason that Pete's suddenly vehement about hating Lex? Hmmm. Plex. (Male/male, folks). UPDATED. Chapter 2. Usual disclaimer. Still tame--plot, not steamy yet.
1. Default Chapter

A/N:  
Note to readers: This is my first attempt at a genuine slash story, as opposed to tiny elements in drama or action stories. The first chapter is tame, though, sorry.   
  
If you think that there's anything about loving that calls for hating, then walk on by, 'cause there's male/male lovin' and inter-racial lovin'.   
  
If this were a movie, would they call it CinePlex?  
  
  
********************  
  
Pete woke up from *that* dream again. He was in the Luthor castle and Lex Luthor was standing there, his body still as a statue but his eyes more alive than any other living human being's should be. He was standing in a doorway, half-turned, and looking directly at Pete. Those damn eyes were challenging and taunting, as if Lex were laughing at him inside. And Pete couldn't speak, couldn't move, could just look at those eyes, those *Luthor* eyes.  
  
Finally, but this had never happened before in any other times he'd had the dream, Lex spoke to him. "It's not just Luthors who take what they want. You should, too," he said, quietly, and disappeared through the doorway.   
  
Pete looked at the time and decided that even though it was 4:00, he'd never get back to sleep, so he might as well get up. *Hey, it's okay to dream about people you hate. God knows Lex Luthor has a lot of hate coming to him. You'd think the Luthors have something against me, personally. Shit, his father takes the factory away, buys it for stock in some little subsidiary that turns out to be worthless, then he comes in, all fancy-ass and superior, swaggering around, and takes Clark away. I don't give a damn that Clark says that he's tried to be good to the town, that he's been nice to him and Lana and Chloe, he's still a rotten, smirking bastard. I wish he'd never come here.*  
  
The rest of the day wasn't much better. He couldn't concentrate during classes and his mind was completely blurred during the big history test. What was worse was once he'd gotten out of the classroom, he *knew* the right answers to all the questions. Well, most of them, anyway. *Who cares about Roman history, anyway?*   
  
After school, he and Chloe met at the Talon as usual. As usual, Clark came by for just a few minutes, and then went off "for deliveries." Chloe and Pete exchanged glances. This time, Pete had had enough and said, "Sorry, Chlo, we just can't compete with a billionaire. Hell, for his birthday, I used to give him toy trucks. Now he's got somebody who tries to give him a real one."  
  
Chloe looked startled at the depth of anger and bitterness, but recovered her usual aplomb. "But Pete, remember. He got to *keep* the trucks you gave him. And wanna know something? Something really incriminating and secret about Clark Kent, his deepest mystery? He's kept every gift either one of us ever gave him. They're all in a box in the Fortress."  
  
"That's real sweet, Chloe. Shame he doesn't want to keep us." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe was more worried about Pete than she wanted to admit. Besides, she'd long ago decided to leave the cooing maternal responses to Lana Lang. She didn't dislike Lana--it would be like disliking Mr. Rogers--but she didn't want to be a Lana clone. If she were going to attract Clark, it wouldbe on her own terms, and those included, if somebody was in trouble, scolding, advising, sharing jokes, sharing bits of interesting information, but not cuddling and not getting anywhere near a response that could be filed in the same category as saying, "now, now, there, there."   
  
The teen magazines she read to parodize in The Torch all said that women don't give advice to friends who are in trouble, they listen, sympathize, and validate. "Listen, sympathize, and validate this," Chloe used to mutter, giving the finger to the Glossy-Faced Stick Insect whose picture illustrated those particular articles.  
  
She'd take action. She always did.  
  
*****************  
  
The Fortress of Solitary Stalking Felony Behavior, as she called it during one moment of exasperation, was Clark-full and Lex-free. Good.   
  
"Hey, Chloe."  
  
"Hi, Clark." She poked under the throw on the sofa, stuck her head behind the stereo speakers, and finally looked ostentatiously at the rafters.  
  
With the vaguely alarmed expression she noticed Clark often wore around her, he asked, "Uh, Chloe? What are you looking for?"  
  
"I figured Lex had to be here, and thought maybe you'd hidden him somewhere."   
  
*He's looking defensive.* "I don't hang around with Lex all the time."  
  
"Right. When's the last time you spent an uninterrupted entire hour with me and Pete."  
  
"Hey, I spend time with you guys."   
  
"Yeah. At school."   
  
"Come on, we had coffee at the Talon just this afternoon."  
  
"For about fifteen minutes."  
  
"Then I had deliveries."  
  
"What do you do, take Lex's green beans in one by one?"  
  
"You sound just like my father," Clark muttered. "I like Lex, I like spending time with him, and it's not a crime last I checked."  
  
Chloe took a deep breath. The problem with fighting with Clark wasn't that she lost, because she never did, it was that winning made her feel so bad. "Clark, it's cool, well, at least it's cool with me, that you and Lex are friends. But I don't like being an old friend who gets dumped for somebody who's a bit more...glamorous. Dammit, Clark, Pete and I are thinking of joining a First Wives Club or something like that."  
  
Clark sighed and sat down. "But Chloe, I'm the only friend Lex has got here. Nobody else even wants to give him a chance."   
  
"He's not said more than a few words to anybody else. Well, Lana, about the Talon, but that's business. Even when he's in the Talon, it's behind a laptop or a paper or a book or anything, it's so obviously a token appearance. He's not given Smallville much of a chance, either. Waitaminute, though, why are we talking about Lex's social demeanor and mannerisms? In a non-Lex-obsessed universe, we're talking about you and me and Pete."  
  
"And spending more time together. I get you." *Clark Kent, turn off the smile,* Chloe sang to herself in something that occasionally resembled Roxane. "How about Friday night, coffee fest then movie marathon?"  
  
"Sounds good." She grinned, said, "Gotta run, Dad's probably calling the police now."   
  
***************************************  
*At least Pete's not being Grudge Man today.* Chloe was highly satisfied with her actions. *Take that, Listen, Sympathize, and Validate! It's just like old times. And I can't believe I just thought that and used the expression "old times." One more step towards saying "kids these days."*  
  
Pete waved a penny in front of her and she focused on that. "Come on, you can read my opinions for free in the paper, and now you want more thoughts?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Just that you two guys are my best friends. And, of course, that Pete always wants to sit facing the window so he can check out the passing legs."   
  
"I'm just a connoisseur of beauty, Chloe."  
  
"Of legs."  
  
"Legs, beauty, same thing. I'm open to the world around me. Find beauty everywhere, in every pair of legs."  
  
"Every pair?"  
  
"Every female pair." *Damn, I hate lying to my friends. Men's legs are pretty damn good to look at themselves. But if I tell Smallvile to say hello to the *bisexual* black guy, I'm going to say goodbye to my unbroken nose.*   
  
Chloe, in turn, pulled out a penny and waved it in front of him. "Whose legs were in your day dreams just now?"  
  
"How long a list do you want?"  
  
Clark, blushing faintly, asked, "What movies do we want to see tonight, we should probably get to the video place before all the good ones get taken."  
  
"Clark's embarassed, Clark is hinting, Clark is blushing," Chloe sang, but got up anyway.  
  
When they got to the video store, it was dark and there was a sign on the door saying that it was closed but would open tomorrow.  
  
"Hey, why don't we each go home, see what we can get, and bring them over to Chloe's," Clark suggested.  
  
"Better that than Friday night television. We can always Chloe-caption if we can only find bad stuff."   
  
As Pete drove home, he turned the radio loud to an oldies hits station and hummed along. *Clark isn't even talking about Lex this and Lex that! I wonder if he finally figured something out, that Lex Luthor is trouble in Armani.* "Not to put to fine a point on it, say I'm the only bee in your bonnet," he sang along with They Might Be Giants.  
  
Going inside, he paused as he heard a somewhat familiar voice, along with those of his parents. "Well, crap," he said to himself. "Just can't get away from that jerk." Arranging his face into as bland an expression as he could, he walked into the living room, where Lex Luthor and his parents were talking. 


End file.
